


In Which Nothing Smells Like Fudge

by orphan_account



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-13
Updated: 2010-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1860273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were definitely not making out right now, because that would be weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Nothing Smells Like Fudge

He wondered. Not like he wasn't going to wonder, under the circumstances. But he quickly reached the conclusion that this was really and truly the real Myka Bering when she stopped kissing him in order to flip out.

"Okay, so," she said, staring at him breathless and wide eyed, "so this isn't really happening, right? I mean, right?"

Her lips were all swollen. One of her hands was in his hair, the other was bunched in his shirt.

"Yeeeaaaahno," he decided, catching the look in her eyes. Wild and scary. A little like her hair was right now, a fact he was dying to point out to her, and would have if he wasn't so busy getting it even messier what with all the making out and everything. "No. 'Cause that'd be weird," he added.

"Right," she laughed, "thank you. Really weird. I'm so glad we're on the same page."

"Nope, we are definitely not making out right now," he agreed. Except her tongue was back in his mouth so it came out "Ockeeairehehehockowighow."

Her response was an annoyed noise at the back of her throat. Kind of like a growl. Kind of really hot.

He said, "Aagohow. " And then, "Earhehglyooeeahahgag."

"Oh my god," she pulled back, glaring. "Can you not talk while we're kissing? Not kissing? Please, I mean?"

"Wow, you can be polite even while you're yelling at me while we're making ou-how-ow! Ow? Geez, Myka."

She was of course pulling his hair. Really _hard_ , too.

It was okay though, because with his head wrenched back by her vengeful fist she could get busy licking his adam's apple. And when she was done with that they were kissing again, her hand sliding down under the collar of his shirt, scritching at the nape of his neck in a way that just made him nuts.

So, okay, Myka had these amazing lips, right? Not like he wasn't going to notice that five seconds after he met her. (Might have been earlier but he'd been checking out her boobs.) And he'd kissed her that one time in Vegas which was _awesome_ for him and embarrassing for her (which was more awesome for him) but he'd found her mouth was even more amazing when he could put a little more thought into kissing her back than ' _Myka's kissing me this is awesome_ \- oh wait she stopped. Bummer.' Especially since this time there was none of the stopping business and more of the deeper-wetter-so-this-is-what-her-soft-palate-feels-like going on. Plus the part where he got to slide a hand from her waist down over her ass (verdict: niiiiiiice) and she not only let him, she wrapped her leg around his and started undoing his shirt buttons. Which he could only take as a good sign.

And then there was the bit where he stopped (not) kissing her to say, "So, you wanna, like, do it?"

And she thought about it for a moment and said, "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

~~

Myka's shirt was on the floor and they were doing that thing where they both had to stop to take off their shoes while pretending that it wasn't an awkward moment and sometimes someone was stupid enough to try to make conversation to fill the silence.

That someone in this case was him, and the conversation went like so:

"Hey so since this isn't really real then we can use a make-believe condom, right?"

"Ew, Pete! Gross. I can't have unprotected sex with you, I can't believe I almost forgot about contraception."

"Wha- _gross_? Really? Thanks. That's nice. That's real nice."

"It is gross. Have you ever thought about what semen is actually made of? Billions of little squirming --"

"Eeeew. Now I have. Wait, so I guess that means you're a spitter, huh?"

She didn't talk to him the whole way to the drug store.

But it was okay because on the way back to Leena's they totally made up. Or, in other words, he tried to cop a feel and she bit him, and then she tried to cop a feel and he almost hit someone's mailbox, and he got laughed at the rest of the way home. Same difference.

~~

At some point he found himself thinking, 'oh crap, she's right, there's no way this is really happening' while breathing in deeply to see if anything smelled at all fudgey. 'Cause that's what he did now in situations like this.

That point was right around the time he was flat on his back on the floor in Myka's room and he was inside her and she was playing with her nipples through her bra which she hadn't let him take off because she said he was the judgemental type. Which, he so wasn't. Not out loud. When he was with a girl and sex was about to happen. He was so way much more smooth than that.

"Oh god," Myka said, with her head hanging back, her hands on her thighs now as she rocked on top of him.

Not happening. Not in a million gajillion years.

He grabbed her and pulled her down so he could wrap his arms around her and touch her and run his hands into her crazy scarecrow hair and kiss her. Because any moment now someone was going to throw a bucket of purple slime at him and this whole thing would be chalked up as yet another Embarrassing Incident that Artie would allude to not-so-subtly for _ever_ because Artie was kind of a jerk like that.

Just then Myka made this crazy hot little 'unf' sound and bit down on his bottom lip and he, thank god, stopped thinking about Artie.

"Oh man you think Artie's gonna kill us for this?" (Or not.)

"Nope." Myka laughed, chin bumping his as she shook her head in denial. "Because this isn't really happening, remember?"

"Awesome."

Still smiling, she focused back on what she was doing, and he was so, so glad she'd always had the innate ability to just ignore most of what he was saying when he talked about stuff and stick to the task at hand. Because her back was arching, stomach pushing into his with every movement of her hips and _god_ could the woman _move_ , she was always so uptight he never would have called it - not that, and not the way she grabbed his hand and shoved it down between their bodies in a wordless demand he heard loud and clear.

Actually, no, he would have totally called Myka being bossy during sex.

But anyway.

She was moving faster now and pushed up off his chest with one hand braced on his shoulder, the other running over his chest and abs while he cupped her hips and thumbed her clit and, hell, at some point he'd stopped being surprised at how well they worked together and just enjoyed the ride.

No reason this should be any different. No reason at all.

~~

"Pete, do you smell fudge?" Myka asked. Her cheek was resting on his chest, with the top of her head right under his chin.

"Nope. You?"

"No." He couldn't decide whether she sounded disappointed or not.

Helpfully, he said, "It just smells like -"

"Yeah, no, I know."

Actually it just smelled like sex usually smelled: a little sweaty, a little musky, and, in this particular case, a little like whatever fruity, girly stuff Myka put on her hair to make it smell all fruity and girly. He kind of liked it, but he peered down to see Myka's nose wrinkling.

"Bad?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna -"

"Yeah. No, yeah, let's -"

She clambered off him, avoiding the sticky discarded condom on the floor, and sat there wincing and rubbing her knees. "Ow, stupid hardwood floors."

"Hard on the knees, great for the back!" He sat up and stretched manfully for about a half a second before curling over with a groan of pain, clutching at the small of his back and listening to Myka's big, goofy laugh fill the room.

And the world still didn't turn purple. Not even a little bit.


End file.
